


catch more flies with honey

by fireflyslove



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Love/Hate, Matchmaking, Other, PRONOUN FUCKERY, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 05:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20334487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflyslove/pseuds/fireflyslove
Summary: Five times Gabriel and Beelzebub had to have dinner as a cover to spy on Crowley and Aziraphale and one time they didn'tOr: Crowley and Aziraphale go to a series of increasingly romantic restaurants to try to get their former bosses to hook up.





	catch more flies with honey

**Author's Note:**

> Listen guys, three days ago I hated Gabriel's guts and now here I am writing fic for him, mostly because Beez is so fuckin cute??
> 
> I don't even know what this is.

i

It started with a chip shop. 

After the Apocaversion, certain, ah, arrangements had been made in back channels between Heaven and Hell. It boiled down to Gabriel and Beelzebub lurking in London, spying on not-quite-an-angel and not-quite-a-demon. 

Currently the two of them were huddled in an alley out of the pools of orange cast by streetlights, watching Crowley and Aziraphale walk out of a chip shop, cones of newspaper in their hands. Gabriel was wearing… well, Beelzebub wasn’t entirely certain  _ what _ it was that Gabriel was wearing, only that it was dark and made him stick out like a sore thumb. They hadn’t bothered to change their clothes, figuring the darkness would hide them. 

“What do you think they were doing in there?” Gabriel hissed.

“Getting chips, I aszzume,” Beelzebub responded. Angels were dense sometimes.

“Right, but why  _ here _ ? And why fried potatoes?” 

Beelzebub rolled their eyes. Salty foods hadn’t been one of theirs, but they  _ had _ taken credit for it. “It’s the szzalt, idiot.”

“What?” Gabriel asked. 

Beelzebub, momentarily forgetting why the two of them were here, grabbed Gabriel by the front of his coat and dragged him across the street. They ordered, and minutes later they were back in the alley, pinning an angel to the cold brick wall with one forearm while the other tried to force a wedge of fried potato down his throat. 

Of course, Gabriel could have broken free if he wanted to, and they both knew this, but what good would that do? 

He gritted his teeth, but let the Prince of Hell put the potato in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. 

It wasn’t all that terrible. The heat was pleasant and the juxtaposition of the crispy exterior and chewy interior was interesting. 

He did not tell this to Beelzebub. Instead, he made a disgusted face and said, “Gross matter.”

They huffed and stepped back, rolling their eyes again. “Hopeless.”

He didn’t miss the warm pressure of their arm across his chest. 

He didn’t.

* * *

ii

Weeks later they’re sitting at a high top table in a dimly lit corner of a slightly-less dimly lit pub. The bass from the ancient speakers was visible in their drinks, and they were watching… well, neither of them was entirely certain. 

Crowley was gyrating on the dance floor, her dress threatening to fall off at any second, slits in each thigh reaching her hips. Nothing she didn’t want the crowd to see was showing. The very  _ definition  _ of temptation.

It was disgusting. That, at least, Beelzebub and Gabriel could agree on. 

Meanwhile, Aziraphale was nowhere to be seen. He was in the building somewhere, but neither of them had been able to suss out exactly where. 

“Are you going to drink that?” Beelzebub snapped, gesturing to Gabriel’s glass. It was full of a golden liquid. He had ordered ‘ambrosia’, but they were pretty sure that was just a cup full of honey.

“What? No,” Gabriel said. 

“Exzzzellent,” Beelzebub said. They tipped their own glass back, the red liquid had once been wine but now smelled sharp and astringent, acetic acid at its finest. It burned their throat going down, and they soothed the burn with the thick sweet stickiness of the honey. 

“What is she  _ doing _ ?” Gabriel asked. 

“Dancing,” Beelzebub said. “You should try it sometime. You’re into that working out stuff the humanszz seem to be szzo fond of.”

Gabriel scoffed. “As if I’d be caught doing  _ that _ .”

“Well maybe not  _ that _ ,” Beelzebub amended.

They glanced up, and saw a flash of blond hair. The angel was emerging from stairs leading to what Beelzebub presumed was a basement, and entered the dancefloor. He approached Crowley and put a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him, a smile splitting her face. 

Beelzebub couldn’t quite make out what he said, but the song was coming to a close (or at least they thought it was. Human music was just so much noise to them), and the pair left the floor. Aziraphale tossed some money on the counter with a wave to the bartender and a smile at a woman in the doorway to the basement, and they left.

“What do you szzupposzze he does in that basement?” Beelzebub asked, intending for the question to be rhetorical.

“Pornography,” Gabriel said.

Beelzebub spit out their drink, the vinegar coming out in a fine mist to coat Gabriel’s face and chest. “Excuzze me?” 

Gabriel’s face contorted, and for a moment Beelzebub thought he was going to explode into rage, but instead, he burst into laughter. 

“Your face!” he said. “You should’ve seen your  _ face!”  _ He laughed at them for a solid minute before slowly sobering up. “Sorry,” he said (clearly forgetting himself and who/what he was apologizing to). “He runs a support group for queer youth in the basement on Tuesdays.”

“You  _ knew _ ?” Beelzebub asked. “You knew what they were doing the entire time, and still made me szzit here?” 

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel repeated, sounding actually genuine this time. “We were keeping an eye on Crowley anyway.”

Beelzebub tried to find it in themself to be angry at the angel, but just can’t dredge up the will. Instead they hiss at Gabriel, their flies buzzing in irritation. 

* * *

i ii

Beelzebub was tearing their hair out. 

They had been sitting in the booth at this cafe for nearly an hour and the archangel  _ still  _ hadn’t shown up. Of course, neither had their quarry, but that was neither here nor there. (They didn’t think about the fact that they were more concerned with Gabriel’s appearance than the traitors’.)

The waitress came up and carefully offered them a refill on their coffee. They nodded brusquely, and she tipped the carafe, the dark liquid pouring into their mug. A half-eaten slice of cherry pie rested on a plate on the table in front of them. 

Rage boiled just under the surface of their skin, physically manifesting in blisters on the backs of their hands. Just when they were about to set fire to the entire building and melt back through the floor into Hell, movement on the street outside the window the booth was pushed against caught their eye. 

They glanced up and into the concerned violet eyes of an angel. He cocked his head at them, eyebrows furrowing. Seconds later, he was sitting across from the table, not having bothered with the door.

“What are you doing  _ here _ ?” he asked. 

“Thiszz is the placzze you said they’d be,” Beelzebub said, their voice harsh and discordant. 

“Cafe Espresso,” Gabriel said. 

Beelzebub gestured mutely to the window where the name of the establishment was emblazoned. 

“Oh,” Gabriel said. “Apparently I should have given you the address. I apologize.”

He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. It was extremely disconcerting, and moreover, Beelzebub didn’t mind it. 

The waitress returned, a mug and a fresh pot of coffee in her hand. “Coffee?” she asked. 

Gabriel nodded distractedly. 

“He’ll have the angel food cake, too,” Beelzebub said.

The waitress poured Gabriel a cup, refilled Beelzebub’s, and shuffled off to get the cake.

“I’m not going to eat it,” Gabriel said. 

“Yeszz you are,” Beelzebub said. “Because I told you to, and you’re apologizzzing to me. And you’re going to drink this coffee too.”

Gabriel made a face at that. “Nasty bitter stuff.”

Beelzebub considered for a moment. They liked their coffee black as pitch, but angels liked the sweeter, lighter things in life. They took his mug, dumped half a cup of sugar and an inch of cream in, stirred it, and reheated it with hellfire (because they were still a demon, after all). They offered it to him, and he took it, sniffing suspiciously at the cup before sipping carefully.

“That’s not terrible,” he declared.

The look on his face when he ate the cake was even better.

* * *

iv.

“Over here!” the voice, lilting and high, drifted to their ears across the crowd. They tugged at their dress, the unfamiliar garment chafing against their skin, and looked around for the familiar tall form of the angel. Instead, they found violet eyes in a different face. 

Gabriel was leaning against a wall, still tall, but unusually, wearing a female form. A dress, gold instead of her usual khaki and tan, clung to her form, showing off nearly-sinful curves.

“That’szz a different look,” Beelzebub said. 

“I could say the same for you,” Gabriel said. 

“Ladieszz night,” Beelzebub said with a wave of their hand. They were still wearing their fly hat, it wouldn’t do to appear  _ too _ human. “That was actually Crowley’szz idea.”

Gabriel snorted. 

The line to get in was long, and there was no miracling their way out of it, they just had to wait. A dazzling smile from Gabriel got them in, no questions asked, and they saw a brightly lit room spread out before them, practically gaudy in its ornamentation. 

“Hideous,” Gabriel muttered. 

“Agreed,” Beelzebub said. 

They slipped into the crowd, and Beelzebub was surprised to find Gabriel glued to their side. They glanced down, and found Gabriel’s hands balled into fists. 

“What’szz wrong with you?” Beelzebub asked. 

“What?” Gabriel asked, voice short.

“You’re tenszze enough to snap in half,” Beelzebub said. 

“Just… a lot of people very close,” Gabriel said. “Not used to that.”

“Then why are you glued to me?” Beelzebub asked. 

“You’re… familiar,” Gabriel said, leaning away as if she was suddenly conscious of how close she was to the demon. 

“Hmm,” Beelzebub said. 

It wasn’t hard to find Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley was wearing a dress so sheer it was practically see through, and Aziraphale looked like the angel had just stepped out of 1948. 

As the night wore on, Beelzebub found Gabriel once again far, far within their personal space. The personal bubble was a myth in Hell, but for Gabriel to be this close to them was… unusual. They ended up with their backs to the wall, shoulders touching. Well, Beelzebub’s shoulder was touching Gabriel’s elbow. 

“They’re here to juszzt look at the paintingszz?” Beelzebub muttered around midnight.

“It seems so. Not even an attempted theft,” Gabriel said, sounding disgusted. 

“What a waszzte of time,” Beelzebub said. 

“Wanna leave?” Gabriel asked. “Go find something interesting to look at?” 

Beelzebub glanced up at her in confusion. This was the first time the angel had suggested doing something that wasn’t strictly within the confines of their “professional relationship” (whatever that was).

“No,” they said. They weren’t panicking at all. Nope. They hadn’t almost said yes to spending  _ time  _ with an  _ angel _ for no reason other than  _ company.  _

They fled to the bathroom and melted through the floor and back to hell.

* * *

V.

It was five months before they got a text from Gabriel with the address of a restaurant and a time. No more no less. 

Satan help them, their palms were sweating. They were the fucking  _ Prince of Hell _ , the Archangel fucking Gabriel shouldn’t make them this nervous. Especially not for reasons completely unrelated to his angelic nature and instead of a far more personal nature. 

They showed up, fifteen minutes late. (Still a demon). 

The restaurant was small and quaint, faint strains of music in the background. The tables were covered in snowy white tablecloths and candles provided most of the lighting. 

In short, it was sickeningly romantic.

Crowley and Aziraphale were easy to spot, wearing their normal forms, they were seated by a window. Gabriel… was even easier to spot. He was sitting at a table across the room from them, against the back wall.

“Angel,” Beelzebub said by way of greeting, sitting down in the seat heavily.

“Fallen,” Gabriel replied, his voice cold. Something inside Beelzebub twisted.

“Liszzten,” Beelzebub said. “About laszzt time.”

“No, no,” Gabriel said. “I understand completely. I’m an angel, you’re a demon. We shouldn’t be  _ fraternizing. _ Look what that leads to.” He gestured expansively to the other pair of celestial beings in the room. 

They were gazing into each others eyes, like neither had any idea there was a world outside the two of them. 

“Groszz,” Beelzebub said, wrinkling their nose.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Gabriel said, a familiar warmth in his voice with the banter. 

Beelzebub stuck their tongue out at him. Gabriel smiled for a moment before his face fell, and became something stern and distant again. 

“I ordered something for us. For the sake of appearances,” Gabriel said.

“Of courszze,” Beelzebub agreed.

They ate (“ate” in Gabriel’s case), and Beelzebub found that their conversation would turn back to the familiar barbs and sniping for just a moment and then Gabriel would change his face and become cool and professional again. 

It was frankly annoying. 

Dessert arrived (devil’s food cake, because Gabriel was a little bitch), and Beelzebub ate half of it, finding themself smiling at something rude Gabriel said about one of the other patrons in the restaurant before he turned, once again, into some kind of distant professional.

“That’szz enough,” they snapped, standing up. Their chair fell over with the sudden movement, and they tossed their napkin to the floor, sending it up in flames as they stormed out. Gabriel stared after them for a long moment before hurrying to follow. Neither noticed Aziraphale and Crowley’s openmouthed expressions. 

Beelzebub hadn’t gone far, the alley behind the restaurant. Gabriel caught up with them almost immediately.

“What the fuck was that about?” he growled.

“You, dickhead,” Beelzebub snapped. “Make a fucking choiczze. Do you want to be familiar with me or do you want to be the Archangel Fucking Gabriel?”

“Excuse me?” he asked. “You melted through the floor last time I even  _ suggested _ any kind of familiarity.”

“I’m the Princzze of Hell, asszzzzzbrain,” Beelzebub said. “I can’t  _ be _ familiar with an angel.”

“Then why did you even bring it up?” Gabriel shouted, his hands tugging at his hair.

“Becauszze I like you, you abszzolute  _ fuckwit _ ,” Beelzebub shouted back. “Szzatan help me, and againszzt my own better judgement, I  _ like _ you.”

That shut Gabriel up for just a moment, and then Beelzebub had him pinned to the wall of the restaurant, their lips on his, shoving their tongue into his mouth. 

Gabriel still wasn’t entirely certain how this whole “human body” thing worked, but whatever Beelzebub was doing, it was working. He froze for just a moment before catching them up by the thighs and held them up so he didn’t have to bend over. 

They kissed viciously for several minutes before Beelzebub dropped back to the ground.

“Well then,” Gabriel said.

“Yeszz,” Beelzebub said. 

“I’ll just go,” Gabriel said.

“That’szz probably wiszze.”

* * *

+i

The text telling them where to meet Gabriel next had specified they wear “something comfortable.” 

Beelzebub arrived to the location, a field in a park, to find a confused looking Gabriel staring at a basket on the ground.

“What’s this?” he asked, pointing at it.

“A baszzket.”

“I know  _ that _ , but what’s in it?” 

“I don’t know, you’re the one who told me to meet you here,” Beelzebub said.

“No, I… didn’t,” Gabriel said, his head coming up and looking around. Beelzebub followed his gaze but saw nothing. 

“Open it,” they said.

Gabriel bent cautiously and opened the basket. Suddenly, there was a gingham blanket and a spread of food on the ground. A picnic. The entire thing smelled of angelic miracle.

“Thiszz  _ waszz _ n’t you?” Beelzebub said skeptically.

“I swear,” Gabriel said. “It wasn’t me.”

“Azzzzzziraphale,” Beelzebub hissed.

“But  _ why _ ?” Gabriel asked. 

“The fuckerszz are playing  _ matchmaker _ ,” Beelzebub said, squinting around, looking for them.

“They’re  _ what _ ?”

“Trying to get us to hook up,” Beelzebub said. And then, a flicker of red and a flicker of blond. “There they are!”

Gabriel followed Beelzebub’s gesture and saw the rapidly retreating figures of Crowley and Aziraphale as they dashed from the cover of bushes toward Crowley’s waiting car. 

Gabriel and Beelzebub gave chase, but the other pair had too much of a head start, and peeled away in the Bentley before they had even closed half the space. 

“Szzhit,” Beelzebub swore. 

“Agreed,” Gabriel said. 

“Now what?” Beelzebub asked.

Gabriel hesitated. “Want to have a picnic?”

Beelzebub glanced back at the basket. There was a bottle of vinegar and a pot of honey smack in the center of the food. A sly smile crossed their face. 

“Szzure,” they said.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found anywhere a demon eats @fireflyslove


End file.
